Spring Moon
by Ksenia Kenobi
Summary: James Bond/Sherlock crossover where Mycroft Holmes is the head of MI6 (or simply M) and has to send his best agent 007 on a mission to eliminate Moriarty's gang. It turns out that Sebastian Moran isn't an easy kill so Bond is forced to deal with mysterious Sean Holt, who strangely resembles the late consulting detective... AU. Post-Reichenbach; post-Skyfall
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello from Russia:) This is my first Sherlock fanfic and I hope you'll like it. I'm not sure whether I'm going to continue it. Actually, everything depends on you.**

**Enjoy! And review**

* * *

Sarah made her way to the back entrance of Bart's as the sky darkened. She truly hated her new job. She was supposed to work the twelve hour night shift from 6 PM to 6 AM and it took her great effort not to fall asleep. Sarah chuckled to herself, as an image of Dr. _John _Watson, sound asleep at his desk, came to her mind. She shook her head, trying to ignore the memories. John and Sarah were never meant to be together; well, maybe some girls really enjoyed running around London and chasing serial killers but Sarah was absolutely convinced she wasn't one of them. She had never been.

Sarah ran her key card through the slot beside the door and made her way to the staff elevator, her shoes barely making a sound on the white linoleum.

John… he hadn't been himself since the death of his best friend – what was his name, by the way? That extraordinary detective hadn't been very friendly to her but she had grown to respect him after he had saved her life…

Sarah violently shook her head. It was hardly the time and the place for these horrible memories. Sarah was still scared of everything _Chinese…_

Three months passed since the suicide of the consulting detective. The press had calmed down, people seemed to have forgotten about that whole complicated case and its confusing details… Sarah had given up the idea of finding out the truth herself; it was pointless as nobody had the slightest idea of what exactly had occurred there.

Sarah involuntary shivered at the thought of someone as smart as Sherlock Holmes – that was the bloody name! - jumping from the roof of the building she was inside now. What or who had motivated him to commit a suicide? Sarah decided she didn't want to know.

The young woman angrily punched the button for the third floor and emerged, making a right towards the nurse's station. Dr. Molly Hooper, a pretty young pathologist who had been Sarah's co-worker for two months, was already seated at the counter going over notes from the day shift.

"Hello"

Molly jumped and stared at the intruder in shock. Sarah had grown used to her friend's _extremely _emotional behavior and thought better of arching her eyebrows at Dr. Hooper.

Recognizing Sarah, Molly relaxed and let out a breath.

"Oh, hey. Didn't see you coming" she started mumbling, collecting her papers in a fuss.

_You never see me coming, _Sarah mused but again thought better of saying that aloud. The poor girl would be even more embarrassed.

"What's on for tonight?" Sarah politely asked, shrugging of her leather jacket.

"Oh, nothing new, actually" Molly nervously replied, trying to organize the files, "I need you just to have a look at these and sort them out, if you don't mind, of course" Molly hopefully looked up from the papers.

"Fine" Sarah said, "How's your favorite boy?"

Molly blushed deeply and started biting her lower lip.

"Oh… I think I'll go and check on him… _Okay_?"

Before Sarah had a chance to answer, Molly Hooper was out of sight.

Molly's 'favorite boy' was someone called 'Mr. Sean Holt", a man with serious head injuries who had been staying in Bart's under Molly's care for three months already. Sarah had never seen him; she suspected the staff members didn't know about his presence in the hospital either. Sarah also had no idea whether that mysterious 'Mr. Holt' was having progress in recovering. Every time Sarah inquired about him or his well-being, Molly began talking nonsense Sarah refused to believe in. It wasn't long before Sarah came to conclusion that Molly had simply made him up due to the lack of boyfriends.

Sarah sat at the desk, giving the files she would have to sort out an unfriendly look. She really hated her new boring job.

She was reading the third report, concerning Mrs. Elizabeth Brown, who had died because of the sudden heart attack when the door burst open and Molly rushed at her side. This time Sarah didn't resist raising her eyebrows; usually Molly would go home after checking on her 'boyfriend'.

"What's wrong?"

The pathologist came to a stop in front of the desk.

"Um… He's left"

Sarah tilted her head, wondering who the hell Dr. Hooper was talking about.

"Who?"

"Well, you know…my favorite boy. He has left"

Sarah frowned.

"Wasn't he imaginary?"

"Not really" Molly said, avoiding Sarah's questioning look, "Whoever you thought he was, he…er…left. He's not here any longer"

Sarah stared at her for a couple of seconds and decided she didn't want to know.

* * *

"Sergeant Donovan? What brought you here?"

Sally did her best to keep her expression blank and just stared back at him. He looked terrible. And he _felt _terrible. Of course, he was desperately trying to hide his emotions but she could easily see through him.

"We have a case" she told him, "Lestrade wants your help"

John Watson looked away from her and fixed his eyes on the black grave stone.

"I don't think I'll be really helpful. Without _him_"

Sally nodded. She had expected that.

"Dr. Watson, I have to say that there are plenty of other things for you to keep yourself busy with rather than spend your time talking to grave stones"

He gave her a _look _and suddenly she regretted saying that.

"Didn't I ask you a question?"

"You did"

"So, why are _you _here?"

"I'm here to inform you about a new case which–"

"You could've called me"

"Of course. But we weren't sure whether you'd answer it"

"So Lestrade's sent you here to escort me to the crime scene, am I right?"

Sally shrugged "Yes, something like that"

"Usually you wanted Sherlock and me to stay as far away from crime scenes as possible"

She glared at him.

"I still do, Dr. Watson"

"Yet you agreed to come here"

"Yes, so don't tempt me into changing my mind"

A ghost of a smile appeared on his saddened face.

"This isn't like you, Sally"

She let an exhausted sigh escape her lips.

"Just get in the bloody car. You can continue your lovely chit-chat later"

"Give me one more minute"

They both kept silent, lost in their own thoughts. Having nothing else to do, Sally began scanning their grim surroundings. In her point of view, the scenery was depressing; she wanted to get away from here as soon as possible. Sally always felt uncomfortable at graveyards. She hated the atmosphere they created around you.

Her wandering eyes settled on John. Everyone knew he had the habit of coming here every day to speak to his friend's grave stone. In Sally's opinion that was ridiculously pointless; the _freak _had died almost four months ago.

The _Freak._

Donovan winced. Somehow she couldn't bring herself up to call _him _like this. It just felt wrong. She didn't know why. Or she did know but refused to dwell on the thought…

_His _name had been cleared. It turned out there really had been nothing to accuse _him _of.

And _he _was dead now. And _she _felt guilty because _she _had unconsciously participated in destroying him.

Sergeant Sally Donovan felt the urge to slap herself so that she could get rid of such silly thoughts.

"Are we going to the crime scene or not?"

Watson's voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she had to remember where she was.

"Of course we are" she managed to say.

John glanced at the grave stone again and smiled at her sympathetically.

"I'll be in the car" he said simply and left Sally alone with _him_. Or rather with _his _grave stone. Sally Donovan immediately glared at it. She hated herself, she hated her feelings, she hated _him _for making her feel so _foolish_. It occurred to her that _he _always made her feel foolish. Even being dead.

The grave stone ignored her glare. How _typical _ of _him_.

Sally wanted to yell at the bloody indifferent thing. Her piercing gaze bore into it, hoping she would destroy it.

_Sherlock Holmes_.

Anderson had suggested the idea of writing '_Freak_' and a couple of 'lovely' things on it instead of the initials. Sally hadn't supported the idea.

Deciding it was time to say something, she opened her mouth.

"Hello… _Sherlock_" she said and quickly shut her mouth. _He _always referred to her as 'Sally'. She had never called him _Sherlock _before. Hell, why hadn't she? It sounded so nice.

Sally felt foolish. _Again_. And immediately became furious.

"Listen here, _Sherlock_, I'm sorry. I was wrong, just as usual. Your damn brain was really useful and I don't know how we'll carry on without it"

The grave stone refused to pay attention to her words.

"I'm aware that you may be laughing at me right now. Hell, do as you please, I don't care. However, I must say it was _silly_ of you to leave us like that. I…" she hesitated, "I sometimes really wish you were alive"

The grave stone was still refusing to pay attention to her words. Sally narrowed her eyes at it.

"That's all" she addressed it angrily, "I won't bother you any longer"

Having said that, she marched away and tried to focus on the present situation.

However, Sergeant Donovan wasn't attentive enough to feel a pair of blue eyes on her back.

* * *

**A/N: Should I go on? Tell me what you think**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! You guys really inspired me to write! So, here's the next chapter but to be honest I'm not pleased with it...**

**P.S.: Do you like the title? Personally, I don't. I borrowed it from the Terminator movie because I thought it would fit perfectly however now I'm not sure.**

**And forgive me for any mistakes if there are any. As I've already said I'm not pleased with this chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 2

"Bloody hell"

Detective Inspector Lestrade rubbed his temples, doing his best to ignore the awfully familiar feelings. He couldn't fight them; he had hoped they would never dare to return.

Helplessness.

Uselessness.

And _despair_. The worst one.

He hadn't felt like that for almost six years and a half, thanks to the brilliant consulting detective and his brilliant unusual mind. Of course, Sherlock Holmes had been quick to become the greatest headache of Scotland Yard. He had magically managed to drive everyone insane with that deduction of his. However, Greg had to admit things had been easier with him around.

Lestrade sighed to himself and focused on the body in front of him for the umpteenth time that evening, scowling at the sight of it. He had seen many unpleasant things so normally he shouldn't feel uncomfortable when seeing another victim. Yet he felt.

"The killer's burned the heart out of her" Anderson stated the obvious. He, Lestrade and DI Dimmock had spent two hours in the dark alley just _staring _at the remains of the body. So far, nothing had come to their minds. Lestrade fought the urge to groan in despair; the situation wasn't getting better. Even DI Dimmock, who had agreed to participate, wasn't helpful.

Lestrade decided to stop being useless and carefully kneeled beside the corpse to get a better look. The corpse belonged to a middle-aged woman. He supposed she had been going home from work when the killer had attacked her. Her bag (or whatever she had been carrying) was missing so they couldn't identify her personality.

The only thing that confused him was the fact that her heart had been ripped out of her and burned. It wasn't typical of _ordinary _killers; they would never waste time killing the victim in such a complicated way. It would take a lot of time.

Lestrade stared at the empty hole in the woman's chest, which was now a mass of burnt flesh, blood, bones and ashes of clothes. Who could have done this?

Lestrade snorted. By this time, Sherlock Holmes would have already got the answer.

The noise of approaching car brought him back to reality. He heard the doors slamming in distance, then saw both Dimmock and Anderson leaving his side to greet someone. Greg Lestrade slowly rose to his feet and couldn't help but feel a small glint of hope.

Unfortunately, it wasn't Sherlock Holmes who arrived at the crime scene.

* * *

John Watson regarded everyone with a sharp military nod; he wasn't in the mood for proper greetings. Sally Donovan immediately walked away, leaving him with two detective inspectors and _Anderson_.

"It's good to see you again, Dr. Watson" Lestrade said exhaustedly, shaking his hand.

It was so strange to be at the crime scene… _alone_.

_Get used to it, _Captain Watson ordered himself.

John put on the gloves and bent over the corpse, carefully touching the wound. The woman's chest had been completely destroyed by the fire, however, the other parts of the body were perfectly fine except for being covered in blood and dirt. John furrowed his eyebrows. The killer must have intended to burn the whole body to cover up the evidence but something had prevented him from completing the task. Or he had purposely burned only her chest.

John's gloved fingers carefully moved the remains of flesh and ribs aside to discover blood-soaked pavement beneath them. He frowned. The heart. It was missing. But why? The killer could've simply stabbed his victim with a knife or shoot her. Much easier for him.

Then it struck John like a lightning bolt.

_I'll burn your heart out of you._

Moriarty's words still echoed in John's mind. He was the only one who could have done something like that. But wait. There was one important thing. James 'Jim' Moriarty was dead. His body had been found on the Bart's rooftop; the consulting criminal had shot himself and had dared to die with a smile on his face.

Then a horrified feeling started creeping deep inside John. What if the maniac had been smart enough to fool everyone once more and stay alive?

"Is something wrong?" Lestrade wondered from behind. John realized he had been staring at the corpse for five minutes.

"The heart is burnt out of the body" he said.

Anderson was already opening his mouth to comment but Lestrade was faster.

"What about the killer?" he asked almost hopefully. John sighed.

"I have no idea. Well, actually, I have one but I can't believe in it myself"

The trio looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. He raised his eyebrow at them. Had _he _suddenly become the new Sherlock Holmes?

"I think it has something to do with Moriarty" John finally said.

This time Anderson was quick to react.

"Impossible! He's dead, I've seen the reports"

Lestrade glared at him.

John shrugged and stood up, "Then I don't know who else it can be"

Soon they all were awkwardly silent. Then Dimmock, who hadn't said a word since their arrival, came up with an idea.

"I'd rather we move the body to Bart's. There's nothing we can do right now and it's very late"

As if approving of the idea, Anderson yawned.

Everyone seemed to agree with the suggestion, and the dark alley quickly became very lively. The officers circled the body in order to transport it to the van. Dimmock headed for his car, Lestrade called Sally. The Sergeant appeared out of nowhere, scaring the hell out of Anderson. It wasn't long before Anderson was dismissed, then Greg, Sally and John found themselves climbing into the same car. As John was taking off his gloves, it occurred to him that it'd be nice to see Molly again and even ask her whether it was possible to have a look at Moriary's corpse, just to be sure he was _really _dead.

Wait. Had _he _just decided to sneak into the morgue with the help of Molly Hooper? John shook his head.

_Sherlock could have been proud._

* * *

_The bloody morgue is driving me crazy, _Sarah thought as she rounded a corner, heading for the door. She rubbed her eyes with her palm and glanced at her watch. 7 AM. The time when normal people usually force themselves to get out of their cozy beds and go to work/school/uni/etc.

Sarah, however, was going home.

She was fed up. Earlier that morning, Molly had fetched her a pile of _fresh _reports with a wide grin on her face. Sarah still remembered fighting an urge to throw the papers out of the window. And _again_, she had thought better of it.

Sarah was so distracted by her own sleepy thoughts that it took her a while to realize she had bumped into a coffee machine.

"You should pay attention to your surroundings"

Sarah blinked twice and carefully stepped backwards, searching for the owner of the voice. He was standing a few feet away from her, eyes glued to the phone screen, and furiously typing something on it. Sarah stared at him. Something in his tall and dark figure seemed familiar. He must be one of the doctors working here, Sarah concluded.

He glanced in her direction.

"No" he suddenly said. Sarah frowned.

"What?"

"I don't work at Bart's but I tend to carry out experiments in the labs from time to time. I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet, well, I'm actually _not _surprised at all. You're so blind that you won't notice the Third World War breaking out right in front of your nose. The lack of sleep will do harm to your health; it has already affected you, I must say. You'd better quit before the job drives you completely insane. Dealing with corpses is obviously not a proper way for you to earn your living. You should try working at clinics, I'm sure you've done it before. And stop freaking out every time you run into a Chinese tourist since they're not interested in killing you"

Sarah suddenly felt very awake.

"Who are you?" she managed to say.

"Sean Holt" was the reply.

Wait. _Sean Holt_? Molly's favorite boy? Hell, the little pathologist had been lucky enough to catch his attention. Sarah examined him once more and decided he was quite handsome. Peculiar. And not imaginary at all.

"Why did Molly want to keep you to herself?"

He fixed those blue eyes on her, his expression blank and _calculating_.

"I mean, you stayed at Bart's for so long, three months if I'm not mistaken. Concussion is usually fast to recover from, within a maximum of a month. However, I don't think your trauma was that serious because Molly never sought help from other doctors. I'm not even sure they knew about you. Then what kept you here all this time?"

After a few seconds, he grinned at her.

"I was wrong" he said.

"About what?"

"About the Third World War. When it breaks out, you'll notice it"

Sean Holt shoved his mobile into his pocket and strolled away, leaving her speechless.

* * *

**Review? ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm back! I'm awfully sorry for the delay - the plot turned out to be more complicated than I hoped so I had to research some things. **

**P.S.: I've always wanted to know more about Mycroft Holmes and his job. After watching _Skyfall _I decided that he would be perfect to take over Judi Dench's post and become the next _M_. That's why there's a bit of James Bond in the beginning so don't be surprised :)**

* * *

Chapter 3

When he was in his early teens he knew he was in trouble. His passion for computers and everything electronic resulted in his breaking through government's firewalls, writing his own unique codes and suffering from numerous headaches.

His therapist didn't like it. And neither did his aunt.

He knew he wasn't just a talented hacker. He was more than that. Because talented hackers couldn't log into computer with their mind or let themselves get carried away in the cyber world every time they saw an electronic device.

Technopathy was rare and not so easy to live and deal with. It often led to mental illnesses and even suicides. Technopaths tended to lose themselves to the tempting depths of cyber world. Once they got absorbed in it they never had a chance to get out of it.

However, he managed to turn twenty five and stay sane. His skills had improved and it would be a miracle if they went unnoticed by the government or some other organisations. So he was very careful not show off his abilities and preferred to stay in shadows.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long.

One day _MI6 _found him. He became _Q_.

He started handling Double-Oh agents, drinking Earl Grey and freely hacking into everything he wanted because now he was paid for it.

Soon he got used to his routine.

Only some things changed after a couple of years. _M _appreciated his talent and he got a promotion. He now had to work with James Bond because nobody in the department had the nerves to tolerate that killing machine in expensive suits. Moreover, the HQ in the center of London were blown up and everyone had to set up a new base – temporary one, as they hoped – in depressing wet dungeons which were full of rats. Then _Q _was dragged into one of James Bond's games which aim was to save _M _and take down Mr. Silva, the one who had blown up the HQ.

Unfortunately, _M _didn't survive it. Neither did Silva, thanks to Bond. The latter disappeared after the funeral. But we would be back if needed.

_M _was replaced by Mycroft Holmes.

_MI6_'s new Headquarters still had rats in the studies and corridors.

The headache gently reminded _Q _of the fact that staying logged in for 48 hours non-stop was beyond his abilities.

"_M _advices you to get yourself out of here as soon as possible", Anthea addressed him, eyes glued to the screen of her _Blackberry_.

"Why?" _Q _inquired, arching his eyebrow at her.

"He doesn't want the Quartermasters to die from exhaustion. _007 _ can show up at every moment and you'll need to be ready for that", she looked up at him.

The famous James Bond had always been a pain in the arse. And it seemed like _MI6 _would never get rid of him. His main hobby was resurrection, after all.

"First, _007 _ should learn to return my equipment back unharmed", _Q _shut his laptop with a defiant snap. He really needed to have rest before facing Bond again.

"He insists on a new car and a blowing pen" Anthea said to him or rather to her beloved phone.

"No blowing pens for James Bond" _Q _said sharply and glared at her ignorant posture, "However, I can have a blowing _Blackberry _designed for you if you like"

Anthea regarded him with a small smile.

"No, thank you"

James Bond chose that moment to burst into _Q _branch, his bloodshot eyes almost boring holes into _Q_'s skull. Almost.

Anthea looked startled for a moment and decided to move out of his way. _Q _fixed his glasses on his nose and tried his best to pull himself together.

"Welcome back, _007_", he said in a calm voice.

"_Q_" the agent barked in response.

Anthea lowered her head, using her _Blackberry _as a shield to hide from the icy gaze of James Bond.

"_M _requests you to be in his office immediately", she noted in a small voice.

Bond looked like he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He turned back to _Q_, putting on his most charming smile.

"I'd love a new car" he said in such a seductive voice that even Anthea shivered but was quick to hide it. _Q, _however, wasn't easy to fall for his charms and once again had to lecture the agent on importance of keeping the equipment provided safe and sound.

"I assume you've lost the gun" _Q_ commented, taking in Bond's appearance.

_007_ shrugged.

"It was an accident"

"An explosion"

Bond flashed him a wolfish grin.

"Do I get a blowing pen?"

"No blowing pens for you, _007_" _Q _said and glanced at Anthea "And I think you have a meeting"

James Bond followed Anthea out of _Q _branch and didn't hesitate to take up flirting with her. _Q _found himself rolling eyes at the agent. It was the first time _007_ had showed up after three month of being in hell knew where and he was already driving everyone crazy.

_Q_'s phone rang. He raised his eyebrows, curiosity taking the better of him.

"_Q_"

"Hello" a male voice purred, "I suppose it's time you breathed some fresh air. These dungeons are depressing"

"Who are you?" _Q _was trying to track the signal. The situation seemed too familiar to his liking. Normally _MI6 _didn't get such phone calls. Unless these people were very clever terrorists who decided to follow Silva's example and to blow up the Headquarters. Again.

"Who am I? I don't think it is really necessary"

_Q _was already dialing Mycroft Hol – _M – _and texting Anthea, hoping that she and Bond weren't really occupied at the moment.

"What do you need?"

"My name is Sebastian Moran. And my boss would like to meet you"

* * *

The way back to Scotland Yard from Bart's was unusually quiet. Earlier in the hospital Anderson and Watson had kept arguing about the victim and Anderson had accused John of attempting to use _Holmes_'s methods which '_didn't do us any good some time ago_'. Obviously, it had been stupid of Anderson to bring up the matter. And moreover, John had turned out to miss his Afghanistan days pretty much.

Sally remembered Anderson marching towards rest-rooms with a bleeding nose and muttering under his breath. Lestrade had to inform John about the consequences of such actions and nobody was looking forward to see Dr. Watson handcuffed once again.

John Watson left for Baker Street shortly after the incident, promising to catch up later.

Lestrade had insisted on driving and now he pretended to be fully concentrated on the road. However, it was clear that his thoughts were elsewhere, due to his furrowed eyebrows. Sally admitted that he'd been doing that frequently.

Anderson was silent at the back of a car, handkerchief pressed to his injured nose. Sally scowled. The last three months he had been driving her crazy; Donovan wished she had never mentioned her feeling guilty about Sherlock's death. Anderson had found it ridiculous. And even now Sally wasn't sure why it bothered her so much.

It was an unusually sunny morning for London. Sally realised they had spent all night fussing around the body, but had failed to come to conclusions yet. Sally hated to admit it but things had been easier with Sherlock.

* * *

Sergeant Donovan realised she had dozen off when DI Lestrade gently patted her shoulder.

"We have plenty of work to do, Sally"

"Yessir" she repled automatically.

Suppressing a yawn, she stretched and got out of the police car. Lestrade was already heading for the entrance, Anderson hot on his heels, muttering under his breath.

Before she had an opportunity to follow them, somebody came up to her from behind.

"Sally"

Her heart immediately sank. She knew that voice. Of course, she did. But… it was impossible, wasn't it? Dozens of questions filled her head, questions, which only one man in the world had answers to. And he was…

Sally felt so vulnerable and confused that she felt like drawing her gun.

"Are you deaf?"

He was getting impatient. And annoyed. Oh, how typical of him.

"You're supposed to be dead!" she exclaimed and turned around to face him.

He looked at her like she was crazy.

"Dead?" he arched an eyebrow, "I believe I'm far from being dead. I'm alive and perfectly healthy so I completely don't understand what has made you jump to such a ridiculous conclusion" then he regarded her with a comically worried look, "Maybe you should see a doctor?"

Sally was so angry that she wondered whether it was worth shooting him right here.

"Regretfully, your new Beretta won't help you"

Inhale. Exhale. Count to ten.

"…And stay calm" he advised, following her train of thought.

Sally promised herself that he would definitely get a bullet later. So she managed to put on a _bored _expression on her face and looked at him expectantly. He, however, grinned widely and extended his hand.

"Sean Holt. I'm afraid we've never met before…"

_Really, Freak? _Sally was tempted to say it aloud but remembered she didn't call him _Freak _any longer.

"…However, I've heard a lot about you and I've been looking forward to meet you. I assume you have a new case and I am sure you have no idea how so solve it"

He handed her a thin folder.

"I believe it will be of help"

And he was gone.

* * *

**Reviews appreciated.**


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